A good man

My uncle died yesterday. I know he wasn't 70 yet. 68 or 69. I have an uncle on each side of my family. G was my father's brother and he was a good man. Is this a cliche? I wonder. I don't use the words "A good man" ever, so I'm not going to think of it as a cliche. But it started me thinking about what it used to mean and what it means to me. A good man. It used to mean what? Worked hard, supported his family, paid his taxes. He did all those things.
My uncle was this great, big, huge bear of a man and like everything else about him, his heart was huge. He called me Sissy from the time I was born until probably the last time I saw him a few months ago. McG wants to know why he called me that and I said I didn't know, but I did, it's just kind of hard to explain. He was from the country, until his own daughter was born 5 years later, I was the only little girl in the family and he genuinely loved his family. I guess that's what always stands out in my mind is the enormous love this enormous man possessed and didn't care who knew it. He was always this amazingly stark contrast to my father. My father who, while always jovial and ready with a quick joke, rarely showed any true emotion beyond that. My father who always seemed so indifferent to his children. My father who's life went on in the same manner regardless of the condition of his children. Who has had minimal health problems, has been married 32 years to the same woman.
And then there was his brother. His brother with 2 failed businesses, a marriage that ended after 30 years and a 2nd one that I'm not sure lasted 1, with a by-pass 20 years ago, a hip replacement 5 years ago and different health problems in between. A man whose life revolved around his 3 children and as inconceivable as it seems, that love only grew when he became the grandfather of 6. Proud is a word so completely useless when it comes to how he felt about his grandkids. He had a new story for each and every one of them whenever I saw him, but only after I had gotten a huge bear hug and heard him laugh this giggle that always made me smile. For a huge man with a deep voice, he had almost a little girl giggle when something tickled him and to me, it just spoke to his enthusiasm for life. He was a good man and looking around, I'm not sure I know any other truly good men. I know men, men I like but don't really know so well I can state they are good. I love my father, we reconciled many years ago after a fairly long estrangement, but would I categorize him as a "good man"? He's a good grandfather. He's a good husband and a good friend. I fall into none of those categories and none of his grandchildren, his friends or his wife have 30 years of scars to show, but I digress. His brother, I can say without hesitation, is one of, if not the finest man I've ever known. My heart hurts for his children and his grandchildren and I hurt for losing such a wonderful person.
At the same time, my dog has been sick and I've found out he's in kidney failure. This, combine with my uncle, has sent me into a bit of a tailspin, because this dog was my baby for 2 1/2 years before McG came along. He is absolutely, without a question, the best dog in the world. (Don't email me about your own dog, I don't want to debate!!) Kind, gentle, obedient, immediately acclimated to having a new baby, moving wherever we did. He was a great traveling dog. He's 11 and I've noticed from the sign in the vets office that he is roughly the same age in dog years as my uncle (the 7 dog years = 1 human year is a myth apparently). So while I'm still holding onto some hope for my dog, Q, (gotta protect the dogs anonymity!!), I find myself preparing to let go of another truly wonderful man in my life, just the 4 legged kind. I got Q on my 28th birthday, 1 month before my wedding, so I feel like my journey of the past 10 years has been his as well. He was 3 pounds when we got him. He was so tiny and so feisty. And now he's not. He's gotten older and slower and now he has a young, feisty kitten to deal with and people who love him dearly but probably don't pay quite as much attention to him as they could.
It's kind of sad that I wait until something goes wrong to realize how I could be a better parent and a better pet owner. I consider myself a good friend and I do the best I can, but whatever flaws and failings I have as a friend do not glare at me like my flaws and failings as a parent. And then, slightly lower on the importance rung, but still there, are my failings as Q's mom. I hope that up until now, he's had a good, happy life. I hope I get to keep him a while longer. I hope I get the chance to try and carry on my Uncle's spirit. I'm sad right now, but I feel hopeful and that's a true blessing.